Slashed Tires Are Good For Something
by TiannaMVA
Summary: COMPLETE! Rosalie’s tires are slashed, her engine won't start, and who better to rescue her than a childhood crush? For dolphinherovamp5's Blind Date Challenge!


**Pen Name:** Tianna M.V.A (_fanfiction[dot]net/~tiannamva_)

**Name:** Slashed Tires Are Good For Something

**Summary:** Rosalie's tires are slashed, her engine won't start, and who better to rescue her than a childhood crush?

**Rating:** _'T'_ for language (_May border on an M rating_)

**POV(s):** EmPOV/RPOV

**Universe:** All Human

**Challenge: "'The Blind Date' Challenge" (**_fanfiction[dot]net/~dolphinherovamp5_**)**

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**There is some _major_ cussing in this thing, so be warned! Also, some sexual references… I mean, come _on_, it's _Emmett_ and _Rose_!**

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"Damn it! Mother fucker!" I yelled across the parking lot. Someone (I'm betting my cash on Royce… ugh, bastard) had slashed my tires on my M3. "Bitch!"

The parking lot was fairly empty, save for a disgusting minivan (in _Blue_, ugh) and an old Suburban that looked oddly familiar. If it weren't for the multiple dents and strange, neon green paint job, I would have thought it was Royce's car. He never had really good taste in cars, no matter how much he thought he did.

"You need help, pretty lady?" a deep masculine voice asked me. I whirled around and glared at him before doing a slight double take. I would recognize that hair anywhere.

"Emmett?" I asked.

He blinked and titled his head like a puppy dog. I inadvertently did the same thing in the opposite direction, even though it was compulsory and idiotic. "Rosie?"

When I nodded, he gave me a killer smile. "Rosie!" He picked me up in this giant hug and started twirling me around. "I haven't see you since we were six! How are you?" he asked, joyful.

His question, though, made my new smile fade. "Bitch slashed my tires." Emmett frowned and looked at the car I was standing next to.

He wolf whistled, and I just rolled my eyes. "Damn! An M3, Rose?" I shrugged. "You did always have to have something fast and red and able to kick car ass in the tail light." I laughed. I was a little stunned about it. It's been a while since I laughed.

"So you said your tires were slashed…" he trailed off, looking for confirmation. I nodded. "Well, being as paranoid as ever about my car, and my quads, I wouldn't have any spares for all four tires just in case. And it just so happens, my quad tires are about the right size for your M3. Maybe a bit bigger, but I'm sure you can manage."

I was startled for a second before I jumped up (he had set me down earlier), throwing myself at him, laughing and squealing and a bunch of other shit. "Eee! Thanks Emmett! You're the best friend a car lover can have!"

He laughed at my mood swings and mumbled something that sounded like, "If only I could take out the car part…" I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear that or not and just ignored it.

After he had mumbled whatever it was, he set me back down. "So… do you want to change 'em here, or should I give you a ride and a tow truck?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to meet my friend Alice and her cousin Bella before I go and pick up my brother and his friend's for a clubbing night. Of _course_, I need my tires changed! Hell, I'll help you out!"

We immediately got down to business. He went back to his car, which I had just noticed, which I had realized should have been impossible since it seemed so _Emmett_ and it was so _huge_. It was a bit weird, really.

He had this monumentally large Jeep, whose size should be illegal, it took up two spaces, and it was a fiery copper like red. _Mmm…_

"You thought my car was ostentatious, eh, Em?" I asked him.

He winked. "Why, no, of course not, little lady. Whatever made you think that?" he asked in a fake southern belle accent. I just laughed at him.

"Maybe the fact you whistled at it?" I choked out at his stupid comment.

This time, it was his turn to laugh at me and then he asked, "Can you pass me a wrench?"

"Sure," I said. "What girl doesn't, like, carry around a wrench in her, like, totally awesome car, huh, Em?" I asked in a high-pitched, fake gossip-y cheerleader voice. It sounded like I was mentally retarded **(A/N: No offense to anyone through this comment!)**. Even when I was little, I was fascinated with cars.

I could head his sweet laughter ring out in the air. It was melodic and soothing at the same time. It was low and rhythmic, sensual, in a way.

Okay, I don't know where those thoughts just came from, but… they seem to suit him very well. I smiled what I think looked like a dopey smile.

To be truthful, when we got done with all the tires, they made the car look better, like it would handle being taken down an extremely bumpy road… which it might be able to, with those tires. I said a thankful good bye to Emmett with a promise to call him whenever.

I climbed into the car, keys in hand, already having located the slim key that would fit in the slot.

When I got settled and I tried starting my car, turning the key in the ignition, it stuttered and made the annoying (and devastating) _err-errr-errrr_ over and over again. I tried tapping the gas pedals to try and jump-start the engine, but it didn't work.

Whoever the fuck messed with my car was _so_ going to die when I got my hands around their necks. After I castrate them.

I would have looked like a tomato because the blood was rushing to my face, flushing it a shade of dark pink that rivaled my tank top.

I hustled out of the door and ran to where Emmett was getting into his monstrous Jeep. "Hey, Emmett! They fucked with my car even more! It won't even start! Can you come help me figure it out, what they did with it, I mean?"

"Sure, hun," he said with an easy smile, which I returned just as well.

Eventually, he had pulled a few screwdrivers that we might need, along with jumpstart cables and a pair of pliers. We lifted the hood of my M3 and began scooping separately.

Soon enough, Emmett found that they had broken a few essential pipelines that connected the ignition to the engine. That's why it only started halfway.

They had also seemed to know where the gas was stored, as the cap had been popped off and there seemed to be a stab wound on the side, slowly filling the car with oil.

"Do you have some duck tape in your car?" I asked Emmett.

He shook his head and began reconnecting the wires. I started fiddling with the gas tank to see if I would be able to keep it closed until I got to an auto shop, or something.

The next thing I knew, I was completely covered in motor oil. It had splashed and splattered down the front of my dark pink tank top and spilled onto about halfway of my medium fade jeans. I huffed and wanted to cross my arms, but I knew my arms would come out black and just mesh the oil into my shirt more firmly.

I sighed lightly and looked up to ask Emmett if he had any other shirts in his Jeep when I noticed the look in his eyes.

I expected him to look away and break the sudden connection I had with him, but if anything, it intensified. I must have looked stupid because I had kept my mouth open, but I think the fact I was nearly panting from the new feelings burning in my veins probably ruined it and gave the opposite look.

Emmett's eyes darkened from that sparkling golden brown shade to a near chocolate coloring of fire. It melted something inside of me.

I think someone would have joked it was my heart or something, but I knew it was my soul. I now lay in a pile of goo at the bottom of my stomach, waiting for something to happen.

He leaned forward considerably, his eyes drooping a little. I leaned forwards as well, my eyes keeping contact with his.

Then, out lips met in what I can only explain as fireworks.

I smiled into the kiss, and I'm sure he did too. He had me up against the car's front bumper, my arms were around his neck, and we were kissing like we weren't just fixing my car a few minutes ago.

I groaned when he pulled away for air. He didn't go far – on the contrary, he was resting his forehead on mine – but still. I didn't want him to go. His eyes were still closed, and when he opened them, his eyes were still the fire the color of coffee.

"God, Rosalie… I was hoping to ask you somewhat more formally, but I guess now is as good a time as ever… Rosalie Hale, will you be my girlfriend?"

I stared at him for a half minute because I was slightly stunned and a tad embarrassed about where he was asking me.

I nodded, a full-blown smile on my face. "Yes, Emmett, I will." I gave him a peck on the lips before it turned more serious and we just lost track of everything.


End file.
